means of repayment, and Shemuel’s confirmation of ongoing praise may have been enough to persuade (read: “guilt”) the community to reestablish relations.
A letter sent on behalf of the “two congregations” (likely Rabbanite and Karaite) of Alexandria to Ephraim Ben Shemariah, head of the Palestinian academy in Fustat, opens with extensive literary praise for the academy and makes a transition to similarly elaborate praise of Ephraim. Dated 1029, the letter praises the gaon and the academy for assisting previously in a case of freeing captives and asks them to take up the cause again in a similar scenario. Yeshu‘a Kohen Ben Yosef, the author of the letter, describes praising the recipient as the very aim of writing: “The purpose of this letter of ours to your honor, our brother, the man of our redemption, is to complete your praise, to specify your laudation, and to offer glory for the beneficence of your deeds that you performed when you broadened your hearts, opened your hands, and acted with great generosity in order to free your captive brethren.” The author assures the reader that a letter that Ephraim had previously sent had been contemplated “by all of the community” and that the people “praised you for the vastness of your wisdom and the beauty of your rhyme.” Yeshu‘a also writes that his own letter should be read before the entire community of Fustat in order to exemplify proper behavior and to show them that they, too, are compelled to fulfill the commandment of freeing captives.24 Again, we see a type of exchange of incommensurate objects (praise for money) embedded within a broad social relationship preceded by the current correspondence and in which author and recipient were allied by institutional context and common cause, even bound by the same religious obligation. They were part of a discrete group whose conventions of address centered on the offering of praise as an embedded exchange.
Gifts of Praise Among Individuals in the East
We have seen above that praise, especially when laboriously executed, could be constituted as a gift of material and even enduring value. Broadly speaking, poetry was recognized as a type of material object among Jews throughout the Islamic Mediterranean. As Miriam Frenkel points out, poetry was one of the key pursuits of the Alexandrian Jewish elite, all of them merchants, who maintained contact with one another through letters. This group created cohesion through informal yet ritualized bonds of friendship that focused on the profession of covenant and the exchange of favors and goods; the exchange of poems essentially filled the same role as the exchange of other goods and services. In one letter composed in Arabic script, the cantor Avraham Ben Sahlān places poetry (qaṣīda wa-rahuṭ) on the same level as other ḥawā’ij, “necessities,” a term generally reserved for material goods. The author asks that the recipient send him a poem and includes a portion of a Hebrew poem with which “I praised Abū al-Faraj Hibba Ibn Naḥum,” a respected figure in the Alexandrian community.25 Poetic exchange was one factor among several that helped create the group’s boundaries and exclusivity.
One panegyric by El‘azar Ben Ya‘aqov ha-Bavli specifies that the author sent it following a “settling of accounts” (Ar., muḥāsaba) between poet and mamdūḥ. This does not suggest that the poet was paid for the poem but rather that the poet and his mamdūḥ were already bound in some sort of financial relationship. The precise sum of money owed (three dinar and four awqīn) is given in the superscription, and the poem playfully casts the repayment in sacralized terms, “He sanctified himself in all matters so much that he made his payment the weight of the sanctuary weight” (cf. Ex 30:13). With the panegyric, Ben El‘azar not only acknowledged receipt but also perpetuated the relationship.26
An early panegyric by the Eastern poet ‘Alwan Ben Avraham includes a fictionalized dialogue in which he asks passersby about his mamdūḥ. They respond: “Why do you ask about your chief when he is very distant?” The poet replies that his heart has become a laughingstock because of the mamdūḥ’s absence. The dialogue continues, and in the conclusion the poet turns to the mamdūḥ and implores him to fulfill his pledge and respond. Failure to reciprocate in correspondence was tantamount to breaking a pledge.27
A very different dynamic is witnessed in a poem by ‘Eli he-Ḥaver Ben ‘Amram, who requested compensation for poems in more than one instance. In this case, the poet grumbles to Yehudah Ben Menasheh, a bridegroom whom the poet already knew, that he failed to invite ‘Eli to his wedding. After praising Yehudah, ‘Eli concluded the poem: “Read this that is given unto you; I inscribed it in order to testify to your name … and send me a ‘freewill offering’ (nedavah; cf. Ex 35:29) with a generous heart.” Had the poet been invited to the wedding, one imagines, he may still have written a panegyric but not demanded compensation since the exchange of favors would have already been satisfied.28
In short, panegyric was used in the Islamic East as a mediating device within a host of relationships whose dynamics of exchange could be quite diverse. Most often, these involved institutional-communal connections or relations between individuals who already knew each other and were bound within a cycle of exchange.
In al-Andalus
The rhetoric of gift giving permeates the Andalusian panegyric corpus, apparent already in the shirah yetomah discussed in Chapter 1. Earlier than this, a fragmentary panegyric to Ḥasdai Ibn Shaprut by Dunash Ben Labrat recognizes the annual contributions that the mamdūḥ makes to the academies of the East and expresses gratitude for the material items that the poet received personally. Dunash uses the language of gifts throughout:
[Ḥasdai] acquired a good name and built a wall of kindness. Every year he sends an offering (minḥah) to the judges [in Babylonia] …
And to me he sent portions (manot), gave gifts (matanot), and filled vessels with thousands of measures,29
onyx and gold, sealed-up purses, perfect and beautiful garments and wrappings.30
This is the last line of the poem to have reached us, though we know it continued at this point. One would expect, as Shulamit Elizur suggests, that after expressing thanks for the bounty that Dunash received from his patron, the poet would have offered in exchange a dedication in the remaining lines. I would further assume that the conclusion made reference to the poem’s value and possibly described it as a gift (given in exchange for the gifts mentioned above). The ethical nature of the embedded exchange was not undermined by the fact that it included objects of value. The relationship was not predicated on a simple quid pro quo but rather on a deeper and more enduring bond whose cyclical nature would be expected to continue.31
The superscription to a panegyric by Yehudah Halevi to an anonymous recipient states that the poem was sent as “thanks (todah) to someone who had given him a gift.”32 Another addressed to Yosef Ibn Ṣadīq states that the mamdūḥ had sent Halevi “a gift of a poem and a gift” (teshurat shir u-matanah).33 Thus poems could accompany, be given in exchange for, or quite simply be gifts. More elaborately, another poem by Halevi for the same figure was composed upon Halevi’s departure from Córdoba; the poet adjures himself to glean all that he can from Ibn Ṣadīq’s wisdom, which is described as provisions for a journey. The poem is an offering (minḥah) in exchange:
Take delicacies from [Ibn Ṣadīq’s] mouth as a provision,
And his words, behold a cake baked on hot stones!34 Eat and go with the strength of the meal!
Gather for yourself manna today, for tomorrow you will seek it as one who seeks something lost.
In exchange give him (hashev lo) truth, a gift (minḥah) sent forth, pearls of poetry with every precious stone!
Perhaps it will delight him, and perhaps the gift of Yehudah (minḥat
